Te Kaipara est completum
One of the world's largest harbours, in a packraft!
It is done! Perhaps the single-most dangerous, vast and mystical section of this journey is dusted. For all the warnings and fears I shouldered about crossing the Kaipara Harbour, this was equalled in assistance from locals and others in the know. Experts (actual, not presumed) all chipped in with advice. This gave me vision and ensured I wasn't flying blind, in an inflatable kayak, into one of the world's largest harbours.
As I stood on the wharf at Dargaville, watching the tide sweep water upstream with enough force to topple a herd of elephants, my heart raced a little with the nerves. “It all begins here”, I thought. “This body of water connects through to Helensville. Once I launch the raft here, we're going all the way to Auckland!”
After a false start - in which I launched against that tide, tried to paddle against that tide and made only an embarrassing 100 metres against that tide - I put the boat in at slack water. As I paddled on the wavy, brown Northern Wairoa, the tide began to rush out towards its ocean mouth in the Kaipara Harbour. A tail wind and this raging force combined and my watch recorded a speed record of 10.5 km/h. In nautical terms, that’s approaching 5.7 knots.
The first day ended at the decrepit Raupō Wharf. Several perished wooden piles stand upright, marking a coarse shingle and mud ‘boat ramp’. Sara, one of the kind hosts at Tokatoka Views Farmstay, pulled up in a ute and took me to their B&B for the night. Next morning, other kind host Peter dropped me back and I took the last of the outgoing tide to Ruawai.
My five hour tidal layover in Ruawai had me wondering if I was the first to do such a thing. Probably not, however the attention I received outside Four Square suggested I was the first in quite a while. Of the people who came to chat, one stood out. Mike, a local kayaker, was fascinated by my quest and even came by the river later to help with my departure.
Following Mike’s instructions across to the west bank of the river and into the Kaipara-proper, the second day ended at Kellys Bay. It was a relatively cruisey paddle, with some exciting moments of chop off the headlands. The weather turned nasty and I wrote the next day off, using the time to prepare mentally for the biggest challenge of this journey: passing the Kaipara Harbour entrance.
The plan was to leave on the last of the outgoing tide, shortly after sunrise. This would get me to Pouto, on the northern side of the mouth, just before slack water. Mike had also been in touch. He text me some ideas, which included a diagram of the harbour made of brackets and dashes from his keypad!
The crossing went to plan; mostly. I probably left about 15 minutes later than planned. Still, the tide swept us down past the orangey sandstone cliffs of Kaipara Head. When there weren't cliffs, there were long, sandy beaches.
Nearing Pouto, I could also see Manukapua Island. Its white sandy shores looked so close. Everything looks closer at sea, so I pulled out my phone to check how far it really was. I was a kilometre out into the channel and I estimated it to be about 6km to the island. With slack water now very upon us, the temptation to just get on with the crossing was overwhelming. I recalled Mike's concerns about the incoming tide strength and its ability to grab me and sweep me back upstream where I'd come from. Slack water was my one shot to get ahead of the flow. I could bypass Pouto, head straight to the island and land there in under an hour!
It was all on. As a failsafe, I hit “record” on my GPS map. Being able to look at my track and check I wasn't being carried unawares seemed like a good idea. I pointed up my ship, choosing the far south end of the island as my target, and began to paddle like a steamer en route to Dunkerque.
Moments after the course change, I came across the first of several “boil-ups”. Fish were flapping about everywhere just ahead of my boat. All I could think was “what the heck is driving that?!” as I swerved to go around the bubbling mass.
Despite my GPS recording, it wasn't needed. In the one check I gave it, I was making a nice arc towards the centre of the island.
After roughly 45 minutes, which felt like 45 days, I neared its shores. Or so I thought. It was just there, several hundred metres in front of me, yet I wasn't getting any closer. Then I realised the shallow water I had just paddled through was just one of an infinite number of sandbanks throughout the Kaipara. The water was deep again. Ten more minutes and I was there. I jumped off the raft and into the shallow water like an excited shipwreck survivor. I had made it! I was on the island! The tide was all with me from here! This was going to be easy!
It wasn't. After a sandwich and snack, it was time to trade this feeling of dry land for another. The northerly wind and tide drove us neatly southbound past the island.
Rather than “gap it” straight across to South Head, I opted to continue on my southerly-ish course. I could see a patch of large breakers between us and the head. It didn't strike me as wise to go straight through that. Besides, continuing south would equal a shorter total journey.
What I didn't notice, though, was the patch of whitecaps coming up on my own course. By time I did, I was well committed. Caused by a sandbar between the two main southern channels, currents were colliding and chopping up some surf. I aimed the raft at the back of the surf and gave us some power. I found a gap between the waves. Our speed dropped drastically. I kept paddling, this wasn't over. The waves all around me went quiet. Was I through? I kept turning the blades. The silence was deafening. Then it hit me. Starboard stern, a huge wave crashed into the raft, shunting us violently and part-filling it with water. I stabilised us and kept paddling for a few more strokes. Was it over? I dared look behind me and saw the wall of water I'd just come through several metres back. The gap was increasing, I was through!
With nothing but flat water and land ahead of me, I settled in for a long paddle. The music went on and I celebrated my victory, this time not prematurely. The only thing standing between me and a sure Kaipara victory were the sharks, and they usually don't turn up until November. It was the 31st October.
Epic!